Monday night was utterly hellish.
Jay and I went down to walk the dogs and on our way back up the path, I noticed Midnight, our black kitten laying behind Sue's car. I called him and he didn't answer so I went over and stroked him. Then panicked. His fur was all hard and he didn't move. Jay and I bundled him up and rushed up to the house to call the vet.
After waking the vet up and dragging him to Newport in the middle of the night, we hopped in the car and rushed down to the clinic, thinking that the cat had been run over. We had to wait around for about ten minutes in the cold for the vet to show up but when he did we went straight into the surgery room and laid Midnight on the table. The doc unwrapped him and told us that our kitten wasn't a kitten. We were so upset (especially me) that we didn't actually LOOK at the cat.
The cat, not Midnight, turned out to be a very old female cat with kidney failure. Jay and Sure were so relieved. I was too, mind, but I was also devistated. The cat had fairly new stitches which meant that somebody loved it and it had to die (there was nothing the vet could do) without its family. I was in bits the rest of the night. Luckily, Midnight was chilling on the back of the sofa when we got home and merely acted annoyed at being woken up.